


A New Time

by DevBasaa



Series: Moments In and Out of Time [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, M/M, Missing Scene, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevBasaa/pseuds/DevBasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set about a month after the events of Avengers, Steve has a lot to think about when he moves to DC.</p><p>One could subtitle this series: <i>Captain America: A Love Affair, Interrupted.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Time

**Author's Note:**

> Great, great thanks to [Jedi_Artemis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedi_Artemis)! I had trouble capturing what I wanted with this fic and it took a few tries, lots of wonderful suggestions from [Jedi_Artemis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedi_Artemis) and a couple of extra viewings of Avengers to complete this. 
> 
> I hope you like it.

Tony had offered him a place at Stark Tower, a large two bedroom living quarters over-looking New York from on-high and a fully stocked bar that would never run dry—Tony’s words. Fury offered him his own strike force with SHIELD.

It wasn’t a hard decision.

~*~

“Carolyn? What about this?” 

Steve preferred books. He preferred paper and files--which Carolyn referred to as "hard copy"--and things he could hold in his hand.

So she bought him an iPad. That wasn’t exactly what Steve had in mind.

Carolyn turned from the boxes stacked across the room, deliveries that had been sent to Steve’s new apartment to, as she’d put it, make the place _home_. She gave him her usual patient smile. “Which part? The iPad or what’s on the screen?”

Steve wanted to say both, but he turned the display towards her as his answer. “Do I need to go down to headquarters and sign this?”

SHIELD had assigned Carolyn to facilitate the move to DC and for Steve’s acclimation. It was actually on her business card: _Acclimation Specialist_. Steve figured he wasn’t the first "unique" individual SHIELD had worked with before if they had a position for acclimation specialist.

Carolyn peered at the screen from across the room, then said, “No, no, you can sign the approval right there. It’ll establish your new DC driver’s license, including the cycle license. SHIELD tends to bypass the state agencies and handle this themselves.”

Steve nodded as he studied the iPad screen. “Mmhm. Is that legal?” When Carolyn didn’t answer, he looked up to see a different smile on her face, the one Steve had categorized as her “This is SHEILD, they do as they like” smile. Sometimes he wondered if the full bar at Stark’s tower wasn’t the better bet. 

With a sigh, Steve turned to the screen again. “Is there a check box? Like on that other application?”

“No, sign the screen.”

Steve glanced up again and raised one brow. Carolyn held up her finger. “Sign the screen,” she said in a sing-song way and then she twirled her hand, imitating signing her name across the air.

With a nod, Steve put his finger to the box on the screen and, as if he had a pen, he signed his name. It looked awful.

“That looks nothing like my signature.”

“It never does, that’s OK.”

Steve made a face. If that counted, what did a signature mean these days? Nothing? As if he needed another reminder of how the world he knew had changed.

With a shake of his head, Steve leaned against the arm of his new reading chair and stared out the window to the city beyond. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, moving to the capital, joining SHIELD. He liked the idea of being in DC: he liked the monuments, the military presence; he liked that Peggy was here—though he hadn’t gone to visit her yet.

But that wasn’t exactly what had made him accept Fury’s offer.

All he could think about were those three months before the New York battle when he’d been idle. Steve didn’t know how to be idle. Sitting around, staring at the walls, reading books, and re-reading Howard and Peggy’s and Tony Stark’s files had been hellish.

Granted, it hadn’t been the war. It hadn’t been Red Skull and the Nazis; it hadn’t been fighting without Bucky there—but it’d been hellish all the same. The only thing that occupied him during those first few months had been books, weights and hitting the bag.

The Battle for New York and Loki’s defeat had, in an odd and somewhat twisted way, felt good. Tony called him a masochist when he said that, but despite Stark’s constant objections as to otherwise, Steve thought he knew exactly what he’d meant.

And yet, Stark Tower did not seem the place for Steve to find his solid ground. Not up in the air surrounded by decadence and endless comfort.

Steve always needed to be a little _uncomfortable_. It was something he’d known his whole life.

“Captain Rogers?”

Carolyn crossed the room, smiling as she approached. She’d found him a nice apartment, selected for its “retro” feel. Honestly, she’d done well by him, creating a mix of familiar and “vintage”, with the technology that was so integral to this new world that Steve knew he’d better learn it all and learn fast.

He wasn’t worried.

“I have a few meals, fruits and vegetables in the fridge, and some protein bars for you on the kitchen counter.”

 _Rations_ , Steve thought.

Carolyn stood perfectly, a remarkable center of balance, with her feet together and a straight back. Steve had commented on that once and she attributed it to yoga. It was then that Steve thought he’d better start keeping a list of words to investigate.

“Now, for tomorrow—“ She hand her hands together as if in prayer, but instead she used them to punctuate each item on Steve’s agenda, pointing them at him. “You have meetings at SHIELD, starting with Human Resources at 9am. The driver will be here at 8:30 am to pick you up. At 11, you’ll meet with Director Fury in his office and I understand you’ll be meeting Brock Rumlow at that time as well. Then you have a late lunch meeting with Secretary Pierce in the atrium café sharply at 1. By the end of the day, I’ll meet you in the lobby and I’ll have all your IDs ready and the motorcycle should be delivered by 4pm. Do you have any questions?”

He had one. He’d been holding onto it for 3 days, since he’d first arrived in the apartment, looked out the window and saw the collection of men and women outside a local business. He saw them again today. They had signs that read “Equal Rights” and “Marriage Equality”.

Steve tipped his head towards the window. “What’s going on over there?”

Carolyn moved to look out the window. “Oh.”

Steve was surprised that she seemed uncomfortable when she turned back around. In the few days that he’d known her, he thought he’d put her at ease with his openness and willingness to try all the new things she kept bringing to his hands. Not since she first handed him his cell phone (which he’d already come to appreciate) had she seemed so uncertain.

“Well, as you already know, society has progressed in many ways over the last several decades. In today’s world, men love men and women love women. There’s a movement to allow for same-sex marriage. This man running for local office has been very outspoken against marriage equality.” Carolyn pointed over her shoulder. “That’s his campaign headquarters over there.”

Steve smiled. So Carolyn worried of offending him; that’s why she seemed so uncertain. Tony had tried to shock him with this news, too. Though when Steve answered, “When I say I saw everything in the war, I do mean _everything_ ”, it was the first time he’d known Tony to be speechless.

But Steve didn’t want to extend Carolyn’s discomfort. “So they’ve arranged a protest for marriage equality.” He nodded. “That makes sense. Make your voice known.”

Carolyn relaxed her shoulders and she matched Steve’s smile. “Protests are definitely a thing around here, in DC. You’ll see many more.”

Steve had no doubt.

They said their goodbyes and, to reassure Carolyn, Steve recited his next day’s itinerary for her as they lingered towards the door. She beamed, looking pleasantly surprised that he knew it by heart already and left with a bounce in her step.

Then Steve was alone. 

One would think he’d be used to this by now.

He poked through a few of the boxes, but didn’t feel like making the needed decisions of where each thing should go. He picked up the Brokaw book, ‘The Greatest Generation’, but set it down within minutes of landing in his reading chair.

Then he stood and watched the protest again.

He saw couples holding hands, a few kissed. They were so open and happy; they feared nothing. It made Steve smile. Bravery, in all things, brought a keen sense of respect to Steve’s heart.

Watching them—watching any couples—made Steve think of his own brushes with intimacy: The kiss Peggy gave him just before he climbed onto Red Skull’s plane; her tears and the cracks in her voice as they planned a date that would never happen.

Even as he made the decision to put the plane down in the water, he felt badly for what he was doing to Peggy. They’d danced around each other, barely touching, but their every word and action promised something more.

He’d been the one to renege.

He also thought of Bucky’s tender kiss on that mountainside and the promise of exploration that they never had the chance to discuss, let alone experience.

Truth be told, Bucky’s death had made Steve’s dive into the arctic that much easier; he knew that truth, even then. The thought of living in a world where Bucky didn’t exist had _hurt_.

It still did.

Steve pulled on his jacket and headed down to the street.

He waited across the street first, watching the group, studying the dynamics. The mix of people was diverse, both in race and age. They seemed relaxed in their efforts, chanting sometimes, waving at cars that honked as they drove past. It surprised Steve a bit, that it was so peaceful, casual. He could easily imagine a rioting response to even such minor displays of public affection between people of the same gender. Though, he understood that such things had occurred—in the very recent past, in fact. And that those sorts of angry, resistant acts did still occur in other places beyond the protection of a diverse, cosmopolitan city.

So, at least here, this group had little to fear.

It didn’t take Steve long to sort out a mild hierarchy. A young woman with bright blonde hair cut short and spiky, who wore bright red lipstick that reminded Steve of Peggy, seemed to be one most often approached by the others. She directed the people around her, answered questions, and called back a few joiners who tried to wander beyond the boundaries their permit allowed for the protest—or so Steve heard.

When the light changed, Steve crossed the street knowing exactly with whom he wanted to speak.

But before he could even capture her attention, a young man with purple hair, thick-framed glasses, an effeminate manner and jewelry on his lip shoved a protest sign into Steve’s hand. It read: ‘I DO Support the Freedom to Marry’.

“Thanks for coming!” The young man beamed. “We’re limited to this half of the block only.”

Steve gawked at him for a moment, then shifted his gaze down, as if studying the sign. “I mostly came here to ask questions.”

“What _kind_ of questions?” The young man’s bright expression disappeared and he gave Steve a side-long glance.

The interaction drew the attention of the young woman with red lipstick. She approached and nudged the young man with her elbow. “Stop it, Jack, any questions are good ones.” With an expression that made Steve think of Carolyn’s patient smile, the young woman said, “What do you want to know?”

For a moment, Steve wasn’t sure exactly how to word his question—or if he’d even completely formulated one. His thoughts were jumbled, mixed with emotions and long stories of his history that he couldn’t possibly tell this perfect stranger. Where would he even begin?

Steve looked at the sign in his hands again and cleared his throat. “You’re here because you love someone, am I right?”

The young woman’s answer was immediate, but Steve sensed the hesitancy in her voice. “Yeah.”

He looked up. “How did you know?”

“That I loved her?” The young woman expression changed from surprise to one of study, her gaze narrowed. She seemed to look over every detail of Steve’s face and he wasn’t sure what she could be seeing in him. A man who didn’t belong? A lost man, burdened with many questions?

She took a deep breath. “I usually say, I just knew.” Then she quirked her lip in a little smile. “But I think you and I both know that it’s not always as simple as that.”

Steve knew he’d approached the right person.

But then Jack, still lingering near, leaned close and said, “So do you have a boyfriend?”

The young woman’s eyes widened and her face went from gentle to livid in a split second. “Jack!”

Jack spread his hands, whipping his protest sign to one side. “What?”

The woman sighed again. “The world would be a better place if you hadn’t slept through psychology.” She lightly pushed Jack’s arm, then pointed back towards the politician’s headquarters. “Go stand over there.”

Like an actor from those odd melodramas that Steve’s mother had loved and hauled him out to see, Jack made an act of slumping his shoulders and dragging his feet as he walked across the sidewalk to where more of their group stood.

The young woman shook her head. “Sorry about him. He has no filter.”

“It’s all right.” Except Steve had been rather glad she’d sent him away; Jack did make him uncomfortable. Had he ever known someone so open before? Steve always appreciated honesty, but that amount of sheer _bluntness_ surprised him. No one would have behaved like that in 1940, would they have?

The young woman rubbed her hand through her short hair and smiled in that crooked way she had before. “I’m Lindsey, by the way.”

“Steve. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So, Steve, I’ll tell you this. I’ve dated more guys than I have girls.”

Steve hadn’t expected that confession. “Really?”

Lindsey nodded. “But I fell in love with Ann. Honestly? I guess I don’t know why. Why does anyone fall in love with anyone else? We were friends first. And we were super close. I remember looking at her one time—“ She put up her hand, like swearing an oath. “I swear, I wasn’t drunk! But I knew I wanted to kiss her. And when I finally did, it just felt like I belonged there.”

Steve considered this. “You felt comfortable?”

Lindsey tipped her head to the side and glanced away for a moment before saying: “Maybe comfortable isn’t the right word. I felt uncomfortable, but it was a _good_ uncomfortable. She made me feel things and I didn’t want it to stop.”

Steve drew in a breath. That he knew; _that_ he’d experienced. He’d been kissed twice. One had felt nice and strangely comfortable, especially considering the circumstances. The other had made him _feel_. And it had felt alarming and uncomfortable and, yet, good.

Steve knew _uncomfortable_.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, his throat tight for a moment; he stared at the sign again. “Yeah, I understand that.”

Lindsey didn’t say anything more for a moment, but Steve sensed that she didn’t stop watching him. She waited, patient, then finally said, “So it’s OK, you know? That you like this guy.”

Steve looked up sharply, his brow raised. 

Lindsey shrugged, grinning. “Why else would you be here?”

Why else, indeed. Steve smiled, touched by her kindness. But his smile faded as, unbidden, the image of Bucky falling came to his mind. “He’s... He’s not around anymore.”

Lindsey looked stricken. She reached out as if to touch him—likely wanting to comfort him—then drew her hands back against her chest. “Oh God, crap. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

Steve waved his hand, giving himself a moment to rein back his emotions. “It’s all right. He was very important to me and it isn’t always easy to think about him.”

They were both distracted by a car honking as it turned the corner and they glanced over to watch. A person in the passenger seat waved.

“Listen,” Lindsey said, after the car sped away, “You’re welcome to join us—you don’t have to carry a sign. Ask more questions or don’t, it’s OK.”

Steve smiled. She was a good person, a natural leader; he respected that. “I hope you get your marriage rights,” he said, then he leaned closer and added, softly, “But you’re already luckier than you realize.”

He knew his words were puzzling to her. To her, he likely seemed not much older than herself. She would never see him as the aged man he was, dreaming of the boy he’d kissed, but never held in his arms. A man who couldn’t be sure he would have acted on his feelings because he’d lived in an era that wouldn’t have allowed it. She might hear the longings and regrets in his voice, but they were incongruent with the face she beheld.

She said nothing as he handed back the picket sign, nodded his head once and said, “Ma’am,” and then strolled away. Steve noticed Jack hurry to her side as he rounded the corner.

For a long time, Steve simply walked, marinating in his thoughts. He crossed busy streets and empty ones; he walked the sidewalks of industrial access roads and tree lined neighborhoods.

He saw more couples, men and women, holding hands, talking in that close and familiar way that told you—even from a distance—that they were intimate. He saw one male couple who matched the same assessment. They looked handsome together, Steve realized. They looked happy.

Living in this new time, with every turn, Steve saw the changes that were to come. Men could share their lives together and be honest about what that meant. As Bucky had whispered to him in that tent, near the base of the alps, men loving men had always been around them, Steve just hadn’t seen it.

He couldn’t even see it in himself.

Steve respected Peggy, found her exciting and interesting; he knew he’d been attracted to her. He probably would have come to truly love her.

Or would he not have, because he was already in love with Bucky?

In their era, there were no protests for rights and you would never stand on a street corner holding the hand of your same-sex lover. But the more Steve considered it, considered the feelings Bucky evoked in him, Steve imagined he would have taken Bucky up on the implicit offer in his kiss. He would have discovered what it meant to be in love.

However, it would have always been in private; it would have been their secret—the only way it could have been. And it wouldn’t have been simple. But Steve had never chosen an easy course and somehow it seemed fitting that he would have chosen the hardest course of all, loving a man in an era that forbade it.

He hoped Bucky knew that. He hoped, in that small window of time before it was too late, that Bucky had thought about _them_ , thought about their kiss and knew Steve would have loved him back. Because he did; he loved him. That was the only comfort Steve could find right now.

As dusk set in, Steve looked up from his seemingly aimless walk and slowed to a stop. He stared at the rotunda of columns and the large fountain that was the World War II memorial. He hadn’t realized he was headed here until his foot touched the first brick. 

"Dammit, Bucky." 

Steve sat on a small step and watched the fountain spill water high and let it fall back to the pool in perfect orchestration. As it became darker, the lights ignited and made a picturesque view.

After a time, lingering with his memories of the war, of Peggy and of Bucky, Steve finally decided to return to his empty apartment. He stretched and stood, only to be startled by nearby music and odd buzzing. It took him a moment to realize what he heard was the phone he’d shoved in his jacket pocket many hours ago and forgotten about. Was Carolyn trying to find him? He quickly dug out the phone.

“Hello?”

By way of a greeting, the voice at the other end of the line said: “Captain Rogers? I’m calling from the Smithsonian. I have a project that I’m working on and I’d really like your blessing.”

~*~

A woman in a suit stood staring at the glass display, featuring the face and story of Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes. She was getting a first look before the exhibit opened in a week. The project coordinator approached her.

She gestured towards the glass. “The other members of the Howling Commandos didn’t get their own display.”

The project coordinator, dressed in his token jeans and t-shirt, only shrugged. “Captain Rogers insisted. They were best friends. And, besides, he’s the only one that died in action.”

The woman nodded, still staring at the young face of a long dead man. “Well, that explains it.” She read over the story. “But clearly he misses him.”

The project coordinator nodded. “I think that’s obvious.”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> So, TECHNICALLY, ‘[What Didn't Happen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1553234)’ would occur after this story because Steve has already realized at that point that he’d been in love with Bucky. But, emotionally, the story stays where it is. I just wanted to point out the continuity. =D


End file.
